


Exposure

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto has an odd but awesome job.





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

One of the best perks of his employment is easily residence at Noctis’ apartment, even though it’s a relatively small space for three people to be crammed into. All three of them are rarely home at once, between his college classes, Noctis’ royal duties, and Ignis’ demanding job. But even when they are all taking up space together, Prompto _loves_ it: it feels warmer and more homely than his parents’ perpetually empty suite ever did.

There wasn’t much to bring over into his room, but it’s enough: he’s got a bed that he lies across, belly down, and a laptop open on his pillow, showing off the high-res desktop version of King’s Knight. It’s a little less fun to play when Noctis and Ignis are too busy to join, but at least Gladiolus is online. Prompto’s in the middle of kicking his enormous ass when a text comes in, pinging over the loud clash of swords and battle cries. In the time it takes him to look at his phone, Gladiolus turns the tides.

A second later, he’s messaging Gladiolus with his surrender, because _the boss is calling._

Noctis has only asked: _What’s Ignis up to?_ But Prompto knows where that’s going to lead.

Shutting down his laptop and relocating it to his desk, Prompto wanders out into the hall, peering past the living room and over to the kitchenette. Ignis’ back is turned to him, bent over the counter, the noise of chopping vegetables competing with the sizzling of a large pot on the stove. Prompto answers Noctis, _Looks like he’s making dinner._

Noctis sends, _Pics please._

_Camera-quality or right-now cell shots?_

_Right now._

Normally, Prompto would never give a client photographs taken with a cell phone. He’s spent almost all his money on a top-of-the-line professional camera for a reason. But cell phone shots are those few seconds faster to send, and sometimes Noctis can be impatient.

Ignis looks up when Prompto enters the kitchen, flashing a brief smile of greeting that Prompto returns. Then Prompto sets to work without a word of explanation, because explanations are embarrassing, and Ignis has to know the drill by now. While Ignis is busy dicing carrots—presumably trying to get them small enough to hide in the meal without Noctis noticing—Prompto starts rolling up the sleeves of Ignis’ Coeurl-patterned shirt. Like many well-built, well-dressed men, Ignis looks best with his sleeves at three-quarter length. Then Prompto stands on his toes and combs his fingers through Ignis’ ash-brown hair a few times, letting a few strands fall out of the upward styling. Afterwards, Prompto steps back to evaluate the scene. He kneels down a little to get a fuller angle, then snaps off a few shots, which Ignis remains obligingly still for.

Ignis returns swiftly to work as Prompto thumbs through the pictures and sends the best ones off. He stays in place while he waits for Noctis’ response—Noctis usually wants _more_.

Sure enough, another text pops up: _Looks delicious._ Prompto knows that Noctis means _Ignis_ , because the angle made it hard to see the food. _Make it hotter?_

That’s about what Prompto expected. He fusses with Ignis’ hair a bit more, molding it into a perfect depiction of bed-head. He undoes the top two buttons on Ignis’ shirt, spreading his collar wide, and gently nudges the small of Ignis’ back, asking awkwardly, “Can you arch your hips forward a bit?” Ignis politely does so. Prompto steps back, frames it, and adds, “Can you look towards me with your eyes half-lidded? And maybe bite your bottom lip. ...And think sexy thoughts.”

Ignis obeys all of the requests—even the last one; Prompto can tell. As always, he’s infinitely grateful that Noctis chose such an understanding partner. Gladiolus, for example, would be mocking Prompto to Altissia and back. 

Ignis silently poses while Prompto takes a number of shots. The second Prompto lowers his phone, Ignis’ expression returns to normal, and he resumes chopping. He finishes with the vegetables while Prompto’s still sending Noctis the untouched photos, and Prompto has to step back to allow Ignis room to dump the vegetables into the pan on the stove. When all the shots have gone through, Noctis answers, _You rock at this, Prom._

Prompto can’t help his grin, even though he knows he shouldn’t get all the credit. Ignis is a great subject, and he’d likely look delectable even without Prompto’s primping. The ellipses show Noctis is typing again, and then a follow up comes through: _Now do some with his pants off._

Cheeks heating, Prompto pockets his phone. This is where his situation gets a little difficult, not because he’s uncomfortable or he thinks Ignis will be, but because it’s always hard to be professional around a too-attractive model when they’re naked, and his ridiculously hot client wants naked pictures way too often. In fact, taking nude portraits of Ignis for his prince is Prompto’s main source of income. Shuffling forward, Prompto reaches around Ignis’ outstretched arms and unbuckles his belt.

Ignis doesn’t bat an eyelash. He continues doing his job while Prompto does his. Busy stirring vegetables into the homemade pasta sauce, Ignis allows Prompto to open his fly and drag his tailored pants down his long legs. Prompto makes the executive decision to remove Ignis’ grey boxers with them, because that’s how Noctis will want it, and Prompto tries to anticipate his clients’ needs. 

Once the pants and boxers are a pile on the floor, Prompto straightens up again, recollecting his phone. Ignis doesn’t step out of them—he’ll surely want them up again as soon as Prompto’s finished. Prompto does a little more arranging—seductively draping Ignis’ shirt over the hump of his ass to show it all off, then tugging the hem lower in the front to tantalizingly cover most of Ignis’ sizeable package. Then Prompto frames it and takes in the overall picture. Ignis’ skin is a little paler on his bottom half, but there’s no time to tan it, so Prompto considers rubbing oil over it instead. But that might be pushing it—Ignis probably won’t appreciate having a butt and thigh massage whilst he’s trying to cook. So Prompto settles for things how they are, knowing they’re already plenty appetizing. 

He takes a few shots from the side, like the others, then circles around to get a more behind Ignis, making sure to capture the tight curves of Ignis’ taut rear. He only has to nudge Ignis back into position once. Then he’s sending Noctis a varied set of scrumptious Iggy ass.

This time, it takes significantly longer to get an answer. Prompto knows that Noctis is supposed to be in a meeting with his father and a few other officials, so he likely can’t do much about the alluring pictures he’s received, but Prompto knows Noctis would _like_ to. Finally, Noctis sends: _Can you put something in him, or is he getting annoyed?_

Prompto glances up at Ignis’ back. Ignis isn’t acting irritated yet, but he’s made it clear he wants to focus on the meal he’s making, and Prompto knows from the too-thin walls exactly how much control Ignis loses when he’s stuffed full of things. 

Prompto airs on the side of caution, answering, _Annoyed. Sorry._

 _Alright,_ Noctis texts, _Then just tell him to be ready when I get home._

Blushing hotly and grateful neither of his roommates are actually looking at him at the moment, Prompto replies, _Sure._

Not expecting another answer, Prompto turns off his phone. He reports to Ignis, “Er, Noct wants you... y’know... ready... when he gets home.”

“I always am,” Ignis says, casually but with that slight, lilting twinge to his aristocratic voice that makes it sound suggestive. 

Prompto squeaks, “Right.” 

Then he bends down to start pulling Ignis’ pants back on.


End file.
